


you were my greatest downfall

by macdennis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: America screwing over Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, American Politics, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Implied/Reference Suicide Attempt, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Propaganda, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:48:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1374427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macdennis/pseuds/macdennis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1940: A man with a plan.<br/>1942: A man with a heartache.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you were my greatest downfall

**Author's Note:**

> *6/12/14- changed summary and a couple of lines yo
> 
> i've been working on this fic for a while now and tws really fucked me up. shoutout to the stevebucky crew on twitter, this one is for you guys. also, thank you kate (and molls) for going over it, i love you very very much. (please read the tags because they do outline the triggers in this story and spoilers)

"And God said "Love Your Enemy," and I obeyed him and loved myself." -Khalil Gibran

 

 

 

 

Steve Rogers just wanted to serve his country.

That's all. That's it.

 

 

 

Steve is a little guy from Brooklyn. It's not like anyone cared. Hell, he's had guys from little old Ohio fight alongside him. No, no one really cared where he came from. You could come from just about anywhere and no one would give a damn. You're just serving your country, clocking in, clocking out, then you're done. But Steve is a little guy from Brooklyn, New York, and even if it didn't mean a thing to anyone, it meant the world to him.

 

 

Steve is fifteen when he loses his mother. He has no one. Except Bucky.

 

An orphanage is a damned place to live in, a damned place with rotting walls and disease and pestilence. Children swarm the place with their pink faces and wet eyes, the nuns watching every leg run and every hand touch. It was a damned place, and Steve hated it. The only things that made it bearable were Bucky’s visits. He always came to visit. Steve was grateful though, he had to be. Each meal he choked down was preceded by a prayer, and every night before bed the nuns preached that God did not like ungrateful children (Bucky would snort and say "God didn't like anyone").  
  
  
  
Religion was the best thing that happened to Steve and he'll tell you that in a heartbeat. He'll also tell you that joining the war was his dream, but dreams were made to be crushed and if you mention Bucky he'll shut you up in a minute.

 

 

Sixteen is unlucky. Sixteen is curiosity, skepticism, denial. Sixteen is horrible and nasty and the nuns warn every child in the orphanage that sixteen is evil. Steve Rogers is sixteen years old when he kisses Bucky Barnes that night under the covers, soft moans escaping Bucky's sinful lips and it's a sin.  
  
  
A _sin._  
  
That's what the nuns tell them as the two are whipped publicly. Steve cries and Bucky shakes as the nuns scold them that it's abnormal, wrong, _ungodly_ and Bucky shakes and trembles and seethes and the nuns demand them to beg for God's forgiveness.  
  
Steve prays silently.  
  
Bucky Barnes does not ask for forgiveness. He does not pray nor beg. Bucky Barnes does not get on his knees for anybody. Especially not for God.  
  


Bucky makes Steve move in with him after that.

 

  


 

War ain't pretty. War is ugly. War is the prized trophy sitting on an abusive father's shelf, the politician sitting at the President's inauguration with white smiles and white lies. War is the poster that makes a little boy smile and tell his father he's gonna fight for his country and end up dead with two bullets in his heart. War is the blood-stained American flag waving high in the air as well as the corpses surrounding the pole. War is the little boy who draws pictures of dead flowers in a broken down orphanage and war is the man who fights for nothing. War is ugly and hideous and Bucky enlists because that's where he belongs.

 

Bucky Barnes doesn't want to burn down the American flag. Not yet.

 

 

Steve doesn't know a damn thing about war. He doesn't know what it's like. He just wants to fight and stand up for what he believes in (keyword: _believes_ ). He wants to escape the rotting orphanage and transcend to a field where men like him die with honor instead of stage IV pneumonia. Steve wants this. He wants to fight. And he'll do anything to fight.  
  
(Note: Steve will do anything to fight for his country. The government will do anything to win this war. To win all wars. Bucky Barnes realizes this while he's clinging to life but he doesn't dare tell a soul. It's all theories, conspiracies, and the military didn't teach him that. In all honesty, the military didn't teach him shit except what to do when you're caught between enemy fire and wire.)

 

Captain America is the partisan of the season. He's everywhere. He's in books, cards, radio commercials, advertisements. He's selling your t-shirts, coffee, bikes, and toys. He's in your house, telling your little boy to join the army. Telling your mother to buy war bonds to support the troops. Telling your daughter to hang up her skirt and replace men in the factories. He's in the White House, standing in front of the pillars singing "God Bless America." but America does not need a blessing. America doesn't even need God. This world isn't green and blue. It never was. It's covered in red stripes and white stars and _this_ is the American Dream they've all been talking about.

  
Captain America forgets to tell you that the American Dream is a lie.

 

 

Bucky Barnes is not a work of art. No, not even close. (Captain America is a work of art. Made on a blank canvas, constructed by the government with the finest tools in history.) Bucky Barnes is a work of militarism. A work of high end imperialistic ideologies crammed into one shell of a man. One shell of a bullet. Bucky Barnes is a sniper, an elite sniper, and he'll take a man out in a second without flinching. Without blinking. Just a click of the trigger and bam. There's no pacifist theories here, no strikes or mutiny. Just good old-fashioned politics.  
  
(He’s wrong. Bucky Barnes is wrong. There's no such thing as 'good old-fashioned politics'. Nothing good comes out of politics. It's all just fucked up diplomacy and he's already seen enough fucked up things in his life.)

 

 

Howard Stark is the definition of economic liberalism. He’s smart, real smart. Steve doesn't know much about politics except the President's name and the fundamentals of democracy. Steve isn't sure if he wants to take political lessons from a guy who has dollar signs in his eyes and coins spitting out of his mouth. Honestly, he's not sure if he _wants_ to get into politics at all.  
  
(Seventy years later he meets Tony Stark who doesn't spit dimes, just business and opinion, laced with narcissism. He's like his father except when he isn't. And when he isn't Steve despises him.)

 

Is this too fast for you? Well, catch up. This is politics, sweetheart. American politics. Nothing slows down in America. 

 

 

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are the duo of the century. Take Bucky out of the equation and you've got a hero, a true American patriot fighting for the motherland. That's what _The New York Times_ calls him anyway. Bucky chuckles when he reads the headlines. Captain America _this_ , Captain America _that_. Don’t get him wrong, he isn't jealous; Bucky Barnes doesn't have ‘jealousy’ in his vocabulary. But he does have a lighter and he wants to ignite those newspapers and posters and cards and games and toys because something isn't right. Something about Captain America isn’t right and it bothers him, _unnerves_ him to no end.  
  
  
  
  
Let's hear it for Captain America? Yeah, let's hear it. Let's hear everything.

 

 

 

"Why do you let them do this to you?" Bucky asks Steve.  
  
Shore leave is supposed to be a fine and dandy time to sleep with women and get drunk at bars but Bucky doesn't have time for that. He's tired, too tired to count the stars on the American flag and Steve notices in a split second that he's not alright (But then again, when was he ever alright?). Steve opens his mouth to speak but words fail to fall through and he doesn't have any idea why. "I don't know."  
  
"You're more than an image, Steve. You and I both know that."  


  
Steve will remember this moment seventy years later and ask himself if this was the exact second Bucky wanted to gag his mouth and fuck him into the ground or if he just wanted to tell Steve that he's better than this. Better than all of this. But then again, Steve's not sure about anything. Except when he is.

 

Some say Bucky Barnes started hating Steve Rogers with a great passion. But that's not true. Bucky doesn't hate Steve, he hates Captain America. Captain America represents false glory and bullshit. Steve Rogers has ethical morals and a righteous heart. He loves Steve. And Steve loves him (and Captain America doesn't give a damn). The two are at their highest when they're together (and at their lowest when they're not). Bucky Barnes knows this (Bucky Barnes knows a lot of things) and he calls this his greatest downfall.

(But even when you're down, there's always a way to rise. After all, this is the story about Steve and Bucky.)

 

 

 

When Bucky Barnes falls, Steve wants to fall with him. But if Steve falls, America falls, and we can't have that, now, can we? So he doesn't. Bucky reaches for his hand and it's terrible because he's reaching out for Steve to grab him, to save him—but he doesn't. Bucky falls. All Captain America can do is watch. (Sound familiar? Wake up America). He clings for dear life as he watches his friend, his life long friend, his first kiss (and his last) fall to a cold death in cold ice on a cold day and it's not right for a warm man to die in the cold. He deserves better than this. He deserves a coffin draped in white cloth and red stripes. He deserves a medal. A funeral. A wife. A home. A child. Bucky Barnes deserves everything Steve Rogers will have after they win the war.  
  
(Bucky Barnes didn't want any of that. He just wanted Steve.)

 

 

 

  
We know what Steve thought when Bucky fell. But what did Bucky think?  
  
Now that's the million-dollar question.  
  
He thought about death. He thought about his life. They say that before you die, you see your life in pictures. All Bucky sees is Steve. Steve before he joined the army, before his mom died, before he went to the orphanage, before he stopped smiling. He doesn't see his life on a movie screen but he does see Steve's and it hits him (before the ice does) that his life had always revolved around Steve Rogers.  
  
He doesn't regret it one bit.

 

 

 

Steve would do anything to fight. We know that. Even if it meant going down with his ship. He doesn't need to lie to the media about witnessing a dying soldier anymore. He is one. He finds it fitting to plunge himself into ice. It's almost poetic. Almost.  
  
( _The Sun_ calls this an "...act of bravery and courage only an American soldier can show". Steve thinks of it as a duty to an old friend.)

 

 

Seventy years later, Steve wakes up and he has nobody. He closes his eyes after that.

 

 

The first time Steve shows a loss of control is at a press conference in Washington, D.C and Tony Stark's blood stains his knuckles. He breaks his nose, bruises his jaw and cuts his lip in one punch. The journalists gasp and snap pictures, but it's quiet. The rest of the Avengers sit on the edge of their chairs and stare. Nobody knows what to do. Nobody has a fucking clue. Tony laughs and spits out the blood coating his white smile (Never trust a white smile in a conference room. Bucky taught him that). Steve snarls, and suddenly he doesn't feel like America's hero anymore.  
  
"Nice. Did Bucky teach you that one?"  
  
Steve screams and this time his friends have to pry his hands off Stark's throat.

  


( _The Washington Times_ covers this in great detail. But they don't know everything. Not even close. The only thing they know is that Captain America isn't so fond of Tony Stark and that the billionaire is going to be released from the hospital in a week. The rest of the article is full of bullshit about Bucky Barnes and who he was and Steve doesn't read bullshit. They don't know Bucky Barnes. They don't have the slightest clue.)

 

 

 

Bucky Barnes believes in god. No, not that god. Not the god that watches his people kill one another and burn and crash. He doesn't believe in the Father, the Son or the Holy Ghost. He could care less. But when he's captured by Hydra and strapped to a metal table he thinks of god. He thinks of blue eyes and blond hair and skinny arms and goddamn Jesus Christ has a pretty face.

  
The world thinks he's dead. And if the world thinks that, god must think that. There's no god watching him when his arm is ripped off and his body is morphed into mechanical machinery (Bucky already knows about artillery, he breathes it). There's no god watching him when his mind is indoctrinated with beliefs and affiliations that are not his. In fact, there is no god at all. Pretty face? Where the hell did that come from. God is a target, a mission. And he's going to complete it.

 

"We didn't have to brainwash you. We just amplified what was already there."

 

 

  


Things weren't always like this. Always grim and gritty. The day Steve joined the Howling Commandos, life seemed a little brighter. They went on missions together, Bucky always lingering behind Captain America slightly. They went to bars, smiled and laughed. They made toasts and sang, danced to tunes that made them look ridiculous. They weren't dead people; they just lived in a dead environment.  
  
The Howling Commandos aren't saints though. They've got secrets; sins boiling in their blood. Steve lives with it. Bucky dies with it.

 

 

One would say it takes a lot to bring down Steve Rogers. That you can't shock him or surprise him. He knows everything. The funny thing is that he doesn't have the slightest clue. And seeing the Winter Soldier's face proves that. Steve’s breath is short. His arms stop moving and the impulses in his gut die down and he feels like time slows to an unbearable pace. For once, he just wants time to pass him by.  
  
  
"Bucky?"  
  
  
His eyes aren't the same. Colder, darker. But he's seen those lips before. They spoke words that settled in his skin like dust. They whistled harmonies and tragedies. They touched his that night under the covers when he was sixteen years old and they never left his mind.  
  
  
"Who the hell is Bucky?

 

 

He knows those lips. He'd recognize them from miles away.

 

 

 

Steve has contemplated things long before he became Captain America. Long before he joined the army or watched Bucky fall from the train. He never held a gun to his head or to his mouth. Never hit it against his jaw. No. The gun would sit in his lap, he would stare at it, switch the safety on and off, and throw it under the floorboard. That's all. That's it. 

Captain America contemplating suicide? That's crazy talk. Only the tabloids would touch that. (And they do)

 

"I knew him."  
Bucky knew everything.

  


"Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky."  
Steve only knows one thing for sure.

 

 

So what _really_ happened in D.C?  
  
A drunk Tony Stark tells the whole world that Captain America is a tool. Nothing but a poster boy with a poster face. Then he proceeds to tell them that Bucky Barnes was dragged along. "Such a shame that happened." He slurs his words, cracks a smile, and tells Steve that Bucky Barnes was already dead. He was dead the day Captain America swooped in to save him. That he never found a way to resurface from the shadows so he drowned in his glory. A punch is thrown and a choking sound is made and that's it. That's what happened in D.C.  
  
Want to know more? Sorry, that's classified information.

 

Seventy years and Steve Rogers finally learns that he was nothing more than a symbol.

  


1940\. A man with a plan.

  


1942\. A man with a heartache.

 

 

 

 

  
Steve visits the Smithsonian. He's reminded that he's just a little guy from Brooklyn. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

 

 

War never ended. It was always there. It was there whenever he put the shield on his back and whenever he zipped up his suit. War was there whenever he slid a finger over Bucky's picture or whenever he visited Peggy. War never left his side, not even for a split second. War is a lingering scent that you can never wash off and Steve realizes this when he's face to face with an old friend. War isn't a solution; it's the goddamn problem.  
  
"Please don't make me do this."

 

 

 

Steve is tired. Too tired to make out the stripes on the flag that weighs on his shoulders. The world tells him to kill the Winter Soldier but he's not going to do it. He's not going to kill his best friend. And Steve Rogers comes out of the body of America's hero, he comes out as just the little guy from Brooklyn.  
  
"I'm not going to fight you."

 

He throws his defense away and looks at Bucky with sincere eyes and a dead gut. There's no more impulses, no more "never running away from a fight" slogans; it's not Captain America versus The Winter Soldier. No. It's Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, the duo of the century. (You can't pull one out of the equation this time, that'll mess up the equilibrium of the entire reaction). 

 

"You're my friend."

Bucky punches his face and cuts his neck and the sins of America pour out like cheap wine.

 

 

 

 

 

An ending? You want an ending? So does Steve. So does Bucky.  
  
But this is about war and war doesn't have an ending. War doesn't have morals. War has no virtues or uplifting tones. War is dirty and nasty. War is compromising with the uncompromising. It's absolute allegiance to immorality but the government doesn't tell you this. The government doesn't tell you a thing.

Steve Rogers isn't a man out of time; he's a man out of corruption.

But here's an ending, just so you can sleep at night: Steve Rogers falls and this is what he calls an honorable death. He dies in his own skin and the last person he sees is Bucky Barnes. He dies knowing that Bucky grabs his hand and sinks with him. He dies knowing that he's a good man with a good heart. He dies knowing that the one thing he knew for sure was that Bucky Barnes and him were inseparable. He dies knowing that he drowns with his best friend (his first kiss and his last), hand-and-hand (not hand-to-machine), and that they float in the Potomac. Together.  
  
Captain America lives on. He's an American icon, a sensation, and sensations just don't go away. He's still in books and cards and games. But Captain America doesn't step foot in the White House. Steve Rogers does. He's not singing "God Bless America" or shaking the president's hand. He's shaking the floorboards, opening the cabinets, making each and every diplomat sweat in their suits. He's causing the right bills to get signed, exploiting politicians with white grins, unfolding lies and liars and God himself. He stands up for everything right in the world and Bucky Barnes shoots down everything wrong.  
  
Bucky Barnes lives on. He's in the military base, slithering around weapons and soldiers. He's the bullet that hits your skin and tears your insides apart. He's the tank that causes people to shiver in fear and run away. He's the dirt you step on and he's the dirt you sleep on. He's war at its finest and he's war at its ugliest. Bucky Barnes is everything terrible and horrific but that's justice here in America and justice is what we serve.  
  
Captain America lives on because America lives on. Bucky Barnes lives on because the military lives on. It's a system; the American system. A military-industrial complex. So go ahead and keep your Communism. Go ahead and keep your monarchies, dictatorships, and your fascist governments. Take everything. Take it all. They don't need it. America belongs to Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, it's tethered to their souls, they were born with it and they drowned with it, and they're never letting go because America hasn't reached the end of the line just yet. 

Captain America is a good man. What the newspapers don't know is that Steve Rogers is too.

  


 

  



End file.
